


Fools Rush In

by grangerbutstranger



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, M/M, POV Multiple, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grangerbutstranger/pseuds/grangerbutstranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles drags Scott to rush week. Things go downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools Rush In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goss/gifts).



> This could not have happened without the help of my wonderful beta, samsamtastic, and cheerleading by RL friend P. goss, you suggested fratboy hijinx. This is high on fratboys and low on hijinx, but I hope you like it anyway!

**September**

“Scott. Scott!” Tinny speakers blasted someone’s questionable iTunes library through the room, but Scott suspected the music had nothing to do with Stiles’ volume. “Scott, I’m totally drunk.”

“I can see that,” Scott said, scanning the crowd. Alpha Beta Omega had drawn a surprising number of freshmen. He could hear laughter and deep bass beats from another nearby house—something something Alpha; he hadn’t been paying attention—but Stiles had insisted on this one. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Scott wasn’t looking to join a fraternity, but Stiles was enthusiastic, so he’d let himself be dragged along.

“Do you wanna know the best part?” Stiles asked, reaching for Scott’s shoulder and finding his ear instead. “Do you?”

“What’s the best part?”

“The people with the beer—“ He stops to laugh, one hand on his knee and the other on Scott’s shoulder, dragging him downward. “They were _freshmen_ , and they _brought it_ , because they didn’t think anyone would give them any.”

“How did they get it in the first place?” Scott wondered aloud, and Stiles suddenly looked very, very confused.

“Is he usually like that?” The voice came from behind them, and both Scott and Stiles turned, Stiles stumbling over his own feet. “Derek Hale. I’m the ABO president.”

“Oh. Hi,” said Scott. Derek was about Stiles’ height, but seemed much larger. Probably because Stiles was still bent nearly double, giggling uncontrollably. Scott suddenly felt very young. “I have no idea how he got like this. Beer, I think.”

Derek frowned. “Who gave it to him?”

“That Jackson guy,” Stiles piped up, louder than he probably intended. He gestured vaguely to a corner, where another freshman shot him a glare that made Scott inhale sharply.

“Dude, you should probably—“

“Shut up,” Derek said. “Please.”

Scott hadn’t noticed that Stiles was still talking. They hadn’t been roommates for long, but the thought struck him that he might have missed a lot in that time.

“I wanna be in your frat,” said Stiles, glancing between Derek’s eyes like he couldn’t decide which one to look into. “I heard the girls—they like you guys. Also the boys, probably. I like girls. Also boys. Also alcohol.”

Scott stared at him.

“Scott, I know, I’m gonna marry alcohol, is what I’m gonna do. It’s pretty.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Scott told him gently. He looked around to find that Derek had disappeared.

 

 

**October**

Alpha Beta Omega chose Scott, along with two other freshmen Stiles knew, Isaac and Boyd.

Stiles, unsurprisingly, didn’t get a bid.

Neither did Jackson Whittemore. Stiles had quickly declared Jackson his nemesis due to his generosity with alcohol and the fact that he was sleeping with Lydia Martin, whom Stiles had loved from afar since the third grade. The knowledge that ABO hadn’t wanted Jackson either gave Stiles fuzzy feelings.

The knowledge that Scott McCall didn’t care about ABO gave him feelings of a less pleasant texture.

“What do you mean you think it was a mistake to go to the meetings?” he asked, waving his arms at Scott as if to stop him. “What the hell, dude?”

"Derek got all intense and said, 'We're brothers now,' and something about a gift. Am I supposed to get him a gift? Is he getting me a gift? No one told me there were gifts involved.”

“Can I offer the theory that this gift is metaphorical in nature?”

“I don't want to be his brother, though. I don't want to be Derek's anything. Derek is creepy!” Scott collapsed on his bed with a groan, shoving lacrosse gear out from under him. “He has a creepy professor uncle, too, and he’s the faculty advisor.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn a lot about the inner workings of creepy people, then.”

Scott frowned at him.

“Look,” Stiles said, “this is good for you. You’re going to make connections. You’re going to have all kinds of opportunities. Social life now, networking later. And you’ll know people who can buy alcohol.”

“Are you, like, becoming an alcoholic?”

Stiles gaped. “Is that what you got out of that?”

“I should be mad at you.”

“I guess.”

“I’m not, though.” Scott sighed and rolled over. “I’m just mad you don’t have to suffer with me.”

Opening his laptop, Stiles muttered, “That makes two of us.”

 

*

 

Stiles had wanted to join a fraternity. Yeah, okay, his ideas of what actually happened in a fraternity had turned out to be less than totally accurate, but he still wanted in.

This situation was not what he had envisioned.

He’d counted on actually being a member, not playing this weird little game with Derek and Scott, trying to get Scott to hang out with his fraternity brothers instead of moping around their room every night, talking about Allison, the TA in his English class, and complaining about how Derek wanted him to participate. Bond. Make friends.

“I don’t want to be their friends,” Scott would say, and Stiles would have to tell him that he kind of agreed to be when he joined ABO.

Derek would stop by their room some days when he knew Scott was in class. Stiles thought it was weird, and more than a little like stalking, but Scott was right. Derek was scary. So Stiles listened to him.

He did, however, make him work for it.

“I don’t understand why you’re here,” he said, staring intently at his screensaver. He didn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction of having his full attention.

“Scott likes you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Make him like us.”

“What, you’re jealous because Scott likes me better? Immature, dude.”

Derek groaned and rubbed at his forehead. “Can you just tell him that he has to decide whether or not he’s a part of this thing?”

“I think he’s pretty much decided. Sorry.”

“He hasn’t said anything to us. He agreed to join.”

“Honestly? I think Scott joined because you had pizza at the meetings. Or he was just too nice to say no. He specifically mentioned the pizza, though.”

Derek glared, and Stiles sighed. “Okay. Okay, you know what? Isaac’s in his English class. I’m sure he could use a study buddy. Get Isaac to make that happen.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, and before Stiles could fully register his surprise, he was gone.

 

 

**November**

“Do you want to meet in the library later? Go over notes?” Isaac asked after class was dismissed.

Scott smiled and picked up his books. “Yeah. I don’t get Shakespeare, like at all.”

“Cool. I’ll see you around five?”

Scott’s eyes wandered to where Allison was scribbling in a notebook, and Isaac coughed quietly.

Scott had spent a lot of time with Isaac in class when they were partners for a presentation, and he’d seen him at ABO events. They weren’t really friends yet, but he thought they would be.

Derek had encouraged Isaac to befriend him. Scott knew that—Isaac had basically told him, and Stiles somehow knew too—but it didn’t seem to matter. He liked Isaac, who never spoke to him about ABO except to ask him about events he’d been invited to.

“Yeah. Yeah. Five sounds good. See you then,” Scott answered, and Isaac grinned before leaving the room.

 

*

 

Derek sighed. “This is your fault in the first place. Take some responsibility.”

“How the fuck is it my fault?” Stiles yelled. “I’m the one who wanted to be in your stupid club! Not Scott! I brought him for moral support, and even then he didn’t want to go! I don’t understand what you want from me. Or him. I don’t get it. And I don’t get why you’d rather have him when he’s not even interested than me, who is. And I don’t get why you choose the creepy stalker route instead of just trying to befriend him yourself like a normal person.”

“I’m not a creepy stalker.”

“No? Really? Could’ve fooled me.” Stiles stood and went to his desk, digging around in a drawer and coming up with a pad of sticky notes and a pen which he promptly stuck in his mouth.

“Here,” he said, around the pen, tearing off one of the notes before removing it. “I’m giving you his Twitter. His Facebook. His Skype. Do with them what you will. Just…stop trying to get me to do stuff for you, okay? It’s weird.”

“Okay,” Derek agreed with what might have been a smirk, and Stiles didn’t believe him at all.

 

 

**December**

**Derek Hale**  
hi

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
dude you have to stop doing this.

 **Derek Hale**  
no

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
you are insane.

 **Derek Hale**  
will you tell scott to call me?

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
what’s the magic word?

 **Derek Hale**  
no

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
that is not it.

 

*

 

 **Derek Hale**  
scott would you please just call me

 **Scott McCall**  
why

 **Derek Hale**  
we need to talk. you’re a member of this fraternity.

 **Scott McCall**  
maybe i don’t want to be anymore.

**Derek Hale is offline.**

 

*

 

 **Derek Hale**  
stiles he doesn’t want to talk to me

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
so?

 **Derek Hale**  
this isn’t how this is supposed to go.

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
WHY DO YOU KEEP TELLING ME ABOUT THIS SHIT  
ARE YOU TRYING TO RUB IT IN MY FACE THAT I’M NOT IN YOUR STUPID FRAT  
i don’t get you dude

**Derek Hale is offline.**

 

*

 

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
dude boyd how do i get derek to stop doing this

 **Vernon Boyd**  
doing what?

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
coming to me with his scott problems

 **Vernon Boyd**  
idk dude

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
WHY IS HE DOING THIS TO ME

 **Vernon Boyd**  
he sees something in scott.

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
what like his past self or something

 **Vernon Boyd**  
maybe. he just wants to be friends. he doesn’t really get how that works i don’t think.

 **Stiles Stilinski**  
why ME though

 **Vernon Boyd**  
like i said i think he wants to be friends

**Stiles Stilinski is offline.**

 

 

**January**

“I can get you a bid,” Peter said, and it was weird that Stiles knew him as Peter, and not Professor Hale, right? God, he was way too involved in this for someone the fraternity didn’t even want in the first place.

“Oh?” said Stiles, sipping his coffee. Cornered by a creepy professor in a Starbucks was exactly where he wanted to be.

“You can influence Derek,” he said.

“No,” Stiles said, “I really don’t think I can.”

“You’d be surprised,” Peter answered. He winked at him, and it made Stiles want to shiver. “Think about it.”

 

*

 

“Are you really this desperate for friends, dude? Isn’t that what fraternities are supposed to be for?”

Derek didn’t know why he kept coming back. Stiles had been right about Isaac. It had brought Scott closer to the group, solidified the bonds between all of the pledges in a way that made Scott unlikely to back out, even if he still seemed to hate Derek.

But Stiles was also an annoying asshole most of the time, and he tolerated Derek only marginally better than Scott.

“Do you know why Scott doesn’t like me?” Derek asked, and Stiles frowned.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t like me.”

“Stiles, if you want a bid that badly—“

“I don’t. I don’t want an invite to your stupid dysfunctional clubhouse. You have more drama than Lydia and Erica’s sorority.”

“Will you at least come to the party next week?” Derek suggested. “Scott might come if you’re there for him to complain to.”

“Fine,” Stiles said, “but there had better be some sexy ladies and/or hot dudes for me to drunkenly hit on.”

“Lydia and Danny are both coming. Isaac and Boyd invited them.”

“Does that mean Jackson didn’t get an invite?” Stiles said hopefully. “And his girlfriend and best friend did?”

“Guess so.”

“I’ll be there,” Stiles said, eyes lighting up. “See you then.”

On the way home, Derek stopped to wonder why he’d been so happy to hear it.

 

 

**February**

Derek was in Scott’s room.

That was weird.

“Um. Why are you in my room?” he asked, and Derek jerked like he hadn’t heard him come in. Which was also weird, because the door squeaked, and Scott didn’t exactly move quietly.

“Hi Scott.” Derek glanced at Stiles’ empty, unmade bed, and put on a forced smile for Scott. “I was dropping by to see Stiles, actually.”

“Why?” Scott asked.

“I do that sometimes.”

Scott laid his backpack on his desk chair. “What, and talk about me?”

“Sometimes.”

“What the fuck?”

“Not always.”

Scott thought that over for a moment. “Are you guys, like, friends?”

Derek coughed. “Are you coming to the house tonight? Isaac was talking about a Star Wars marathon.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said. He’d stop by to say hi to Isaac, at least. He’d been spending time with Boyd and Erica, and Scott had spent time with Stiles. They hadn’t hung out in too long.

“Really?” Derek asked, smiling for real. It was a good look on him. Scott had the fleeting thought that he might like Derek a lot more if he looked like that more often.

“Why not?”

 

 

**March**

Stiles was fighting the urge to call Derek an asshole. He was fighting it hard.

“You asshole,” he said, losing the battle. “You can’t just torment my best friend into hanging out with you, then insult him, then come to me asking how to make it better. You can’t just do that. That’s not normal or nice or good.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Is that out of your system?”

“Yeah. Think so.”

He sipped his coffee thoughtfully and said, “Yeah. I am.”

“What?”

“I am an asshole. Want some?” he gestured to his coffee.

“Yeah, gimme that,” Stiles said, wiggling his fingers as he reached for it. It was cold out, the weather still not sure what season it belonged to. He sipped the coffee while Derek watched. “Ugh. Of course you drink it black.”

Derek reached to take it back, but Stiles stopped him. “Hey, hey, just because it’s gross doesn’t mean I don’t want it.”

Stiles watched in astonishment as Derek actually laughed, and something in him lit up at the sound. He glanced back at the coffee cup, struck by the odd intimacy of sharing coffee on a cold morning with someone he didn’t even think he liked.

They stood on the sidewalk together for a while, shoulders bumping, passing the coffee between them, and Stiles pointedly ignored the metaphorical resonance of the sun rising from the clouds above them.

 

 

**April**

Isaac had taken Stiles’ bed, Boyd had taken Scott’s. Scott and Stiles weren’t sure how either of those things had happened, but there was a zombie marathon on their ancient TV and seven bags of popcorn already popped just in case.

“You guys are gonna love this one,” Stiles said from the floor, and Scott wasn’t at all surprised that Stiles had an encyclopedic knowledge of zombie cinema. He was pretty impressed that he’d seen every movie on the list, though.

“Hold on a sec,” Stiles said, holding up a finger. He answered his phone, and several “uh-huhs” and “okays” later, he hung up, looking baffled. “Derek called me to say hi.”

“He does that,” Isaac said. “Means he likes you.”

“Derek hates my guts,” Stiles told him. “Or, well, he definitely still doesn’t like me enough to randomly call me on a Saturday night. Doesn’t he have better things to do?”

“He doesn’t date, he doesn’t party, and he doesn’t have that many friends,” said Boyd.

“Okay, but seriously, why would he call me? I didn’t even know he had my number.”

Scott frowned. “Why don’t you call him back and ask?”

Stiles floundered for a moment and finally stashed his phone under his pillow, ostensibly to muffle its ringing.

“You could just put it on silent,” Boyd suggested.

“Shut up,” said Stiles, and pressed play.

 

 

**May**

“God, haven’t you graduated yet?”

Derek shifted his shoulders slightly as he leaned against the doorway. “Not yet.”

Stiles shut his computer. He’d stopped ignoring Derek in its favor months ago, but it still looked like defeat. “Did you need something, or is this a social call?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“So…both.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Talk.”

Derek stepped inside, debating sitting at Stiles’ desk or at the foot of his bed before choosing Scott’s desk chair, safe in the opposite corner. “I’m going to get something out of the way right now,” he warned. “You’re not going to like it. Don’t stop listening.”

Miraculously silent, Stiles raised an eyebrow. Derek took a deep breath. “I wasn’t wrong about you.”

Stiles nodded, snorting a sardonic laugh. “Great.”

Derek watched him and wanted to skip this, wanted to backtrack and tell him to forget it, and knew he had to explain.

“You’re not a team player. You care, but you prioritize your own needs. You dragged Scott to rush when he didn’t want to be there, you encouraged him to join ABO so you’d have access, and you worked with me to get him involved when he expressed no interest, presumably so that you would have a chance at a bid.”

“So, selfish. Got it. That’s rich, from you.”

“You’re unpredictable, you’re immature—at least you were—and you’re annoying. You frustrated me from the start.”

“Good to know,” Stiles said. “Can you leave now?”

Derek shook his head. “I wasn’t wrong about you, but I was stupid. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’d have been good for us. Still would be, if you wanted it, but I won’t be here next year, so it’s too late for me.”

“I don’t want it anymore,” Stiles told him seriously. “Peter offered me a bid—“

“He what?”

“He offered me a bid, back in January, and I turned it down.”

Derek blinked, swallowed back his reaction to that news, and nodded. “The point is I disliked you. I know why, but I was wrong.”

“So you’re saying you were right about me, but also wrong?”

“Yeah,” Derek sighed. “Look, I—“

“Dude, if you’re trying to apologize…you don’t have to, you know.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Derek shifted in his seat, and the chair squeaked ominously. He took it as a sign. Any excuse to move to the end of the bed, any excuse to get closer to Stiles, to watch his eyes and run when he needed to. Stiles watched him move, and Derek felt uncomfortably exposed.

“I might kind of, um. Like you.”

“Like me or like me like me?”

Derek shook his head. “The latter, I think?”

“Jesus Christ,” said Stiles. “You are terrible at this. You open with all my worst qualities and then you use two different qualifiers? What the hell, Derek? You can’t just…you’re so hot. You’re so hot, and so out of my league, and you don’t even like me, Derek. You actively dislike me, and I was going to miss you and it was going to be unfair and—“

Derek was across the bed and kissing him, and Stiles met him halfway, ending his sentence early and crashing into Derek with more force than Derek into him. He gasped into Derek’s mouth and fell onto his pillow, dragging Derek down with him.

“Fuck you,” he said. “Not in the good way. You suck.”

“I suck,” Derek said, and rolled Stiles’ lower lip between his teeth. “Agreed. Shut up.”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, biting at his jaw.

They kissed for minutes that felt like forever and still flew by, biting each other’s lips hard enough to swell, Stiles sucking at Derek’s tongue like it belonged to him. His fingers tangled in Derek’s belt loops, and he pulled him closer, aligning their hips until Derek groaned, the low sound loud in air that had held only soft, wet sounds and harsh breath.

“Fuck,” Stiles said. “Fuck, Derek, you’re the worst and I hate you and hope you die.”

“Of course I like you,” Derek said.

“That’s not an ‘of course,’” Stiles told him, and Derek laughed.


End file.
